Arch.
I heard, they lay the last night at Northampton,
At Stony-Stratford they do rest to night:
To morrow, or next day, they will be here.

Dutch.
I long with all my heart to see the Prince;
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.

Queen.
But I hear, not; they say, my son of York
Has almost over-ta'en him in his growth.

York.
Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.

Dutch.
Why, my young Cousin, it is good to grow.

York.
Grandam, one night as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother. Ay, quoth my uncle Glo'ster,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flow'rs are slow, and weeds make haste.

Dutch.
Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
In him, that did object the same to thee.
He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young;

So long a growing, and so leisurely,
That, if his Rule were true, he should be gracious.

York.
And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious Madam.

Dutch.
I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

York.
Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
I could have giv'n my Uncle's Grace a flout
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

Dutch.
How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear it.

York.
Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old;
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

Dutch.
I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York.
Grandam, his nurse.

Dutch.
His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast born.

York.
If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

Queen.
A parlous boy—go to, you are too shrewd.

Dutch.
Good Madam, be not angry with a child.

Queen.
Pitchers have ears. Enter a Messenger.

Arch.
Here comes a messenger: what news?

Mes.
Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.

Queen.
How doth the Prince?

Mes.
Well, Madam, and in health.

Dutch.
What is thy news?

Mes.
Lord Rivers and lord Gray are sent to Pomfret,
With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

Dutch.
Who hath committed them?

Mes.
The mighty Dukes,
Glo'ster and Buckingham.

Arch.
For what offence?

Mes.
The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Queen.
Ah me! I see the ruin of my house;
The tyger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind.
Insulting tyranny begins to jut
Upon the innocent and awless throne;
Welcome, destruction, blood and massacre!
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Dutch.
Accursed and unquiet wrangling days!
How many of you have mine eyes beheld?
My husband lost his life to get the Crown,
And often up and down my sons were tost,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss.
And being seated, and domestick broils
Clean over-blown, themselves the Conquerors
Make war upon themselves, blood against blood,
Self against self; O most preposterous
And frantick outrage! end thy damned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more.

Queen.
Come, come, my boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farewel.

Dutch.
Stay, I will go with you.

Queen.
You have no cause.

Arch.
My gracious lady, go,
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace
The Seal I keep; and so betide it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary. [Exeunt.

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